


Win Big, Daddy's Falling Angel

by 1f_this_be_madness, Huhsuabee



Series: Mending The Broken Things [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel Adam Milligan, Angel Dean Winchester, Angel Sam Winchester, Angels Becoming Humans, Characters as Angels, Counselor Castiel (Supernatural), Gen, Parental Bobby Singer, Winchesters (Supernatural) to the Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huhsuabee/pseuds/Huhsuabee
Summary: Gabriel Shurley is having a difficult time. Things get rough sometimes, and when you're not exactly on speaking terms with all of your siblings, you can get lonely. But hey, that's what candy and booze are for, right? Not to mention a furry companion, so things aren't that bad.And then he finds out he is being watched over by some beanpole who claims to be his guardian angel......And apparently, getting guarded runs in the family.





	Win Big, Daddy's Falling Angel

It was quiet on the way back home. The drive to the convenience store wasn't too far and traffic was practically nonexistent, considering it was past two in the morning. Pulling up to the apartment building, he hopped out of his car, snagging the single grocery bag from its spot on the passenger seat. Shutting the door and locking the car with a tap from his thumb on the little remote attached to his keys, he strode up to his door. Whistling a jaunty tune he flipped through the keys, found the one he was searching for, and used it to unlock the knob.

Stepping through the door, he let out a content sigh as it shut behind him, but upon setting the bag down on the floor and kicking off his shoes, he grew immediately quiet. His hand rested on the wall just below the light switch but he does not move to flip it. Something is off. Normally his apartment would burst to life as soon as he walked in. The reason being - he has a dog. However not a single noise can be heard tonight. Squinting in the darkness of the hall and waiting for his eyes to adjust, he raises his chin and carefully removes his hand from the wall as he steps forward.

His eyes darted around the hallway and the front room as he tiptoed over to the lamp that rested on an accent table on the other side of the door. Unplugging the lamp as quietly as he could, he grabbed hold of the base and held it like a baseball bat, venturing farther into the room. His gaze flickered toward the kitchen, eyebrow rising a little when he hears a very soft small shuffling sound. Frowning now, he kept going, thankful to be wearing socks. 

He takes several calculating steps, noting a beam of light emanating from the kitchen. Breathing slowly through his nose, he stepped again, groaning internally when the floor beneath him creaked. "Shit ..." He muttered bitterly to himself, not moving a muscle now. The sound stopped for a moment but then resumed. He exhaled softly, feeling the temperature of the air around him drop at least ten degrees. He blinked, watching as his breath escaped his mouth and hung in the air before him in a visible yet intangible cloud. His shoulders felt weighted down, suddenly, as if a blanket made of lead had been dropped on top of them, but the man can clearly tell that nothing was touching him. Briefly he shut his eyes and shook his head as if he could will away this strangeness; then feeling a presence behind him, he whirls on his heel, lifting the lamp above his head to strike.

The lights overhead came on, making him blink several times to adjust. 

There stood a man. He was tall; a little on the boyish side but seemed to be in his thirties. Long hair, dark brown and shiny, healthy-looking. Wide eyes. He appeared a little alarmed, hands raised up open in a defensive posture beside his head. Seeing this, the apartment owner lowers his lamp just a bit. Tilting his head, he takes a step back. "Okay, beanstalk," he said. "What're you doing here?" The other swallows and attempts to step forward, stammering as he tries to speak. The lamp is immediately shoved in his face as he moves. "Hey hey," the other warned. "I may be small, but I'll kick your ass." He shakes his head, baffled by the other's demeanor. Something said he wasn't there to hurt anyone; the guy is too jumpy for that, not to mention there is no sign of any weapon. Then again, that is not the vibe one gets or trusts from a home intruder. "Well, whaddaya want? Drugs? Fresh out. Hear they're for sale around the corner if you're interested. Alcohol--" he gestured to the grocery bag by the door, causing the other to crane his neck around and look. "--just bought some. Have a blast. But get out." He jabs the lamp at the tall guy, face closed.

The beanpole lowers his hands and spreads his arms out, speaking at last. "Okay, okay. Um," he blinks twice and pushes some hair behind his ear awkwardly. "I was just..."

The shorter rocked back on his heels, his lamp still raised. "You were just what?" 

From behind him come the tiny clicks of claws skittering on tiles, and his chocolate lab slides around the corner to accost the stranger. She barked once at him, tail wagging. Definitely confusing, to say the least.

The tall man starts again. "I'm here to help you," he intoned. "My name is Sam, and I'm an angel."

Silence. At this point the dog has wandered off, likely to get something to eat. She is clearly uninterested now that she had investigated the stranger by bark. The shorter man lets out a hysterical laugh. "HA! Yeah, okay. I'm God, nice to meet you." As soon as the smile came to his face it left and the laughter died. He raises his lamp higher now, staring down the length of its shaft into the other's eyes. "I mean it, big guy--get out."

The taller man was not having that. Shifting from foot to foot and staring around the room for a second, he meets the other's eyes with a serious expression in his own. "Gabriel," he speaks soft but firm: "I am _not_ leaving."

The shorter man's eyes bug out and his throat clicks a bit as he says "...Well, if you're trying to freak me out, you've succeeded. Congratulations." He clutches the lamp tighter with now slightly-shaking fingers. He wets his lips a little. "How'd you...how do you know my name?"

The giant man -Sam- ducks his head a little, tone of voice gentle now. "I'm sorry. It was not my intention to, uh, 'freak you out' at all. I know your name because it is my job to aid and protect you." Sam settles his shoulders and smiles, eyes sparkling with friendliness. "I am your guardian angel."

***

After a long day of work at the elementary school, he is exhausted. Children are some of God's most wonderful - and mysterious - creations. He goes to the grocery store for sustenance, stopping by the pet shop next door, as his special order of high-fiber guinea pig food has just arrived. He smiles at and speaks quietly to the cashier, who has also clearly had a long day and requires someone to talk to. 

Twenty minutes later than he intended, he gets into his car and drives home. Gathering up all of the groceries, he strides swiftly to his door, long coat fluttering behind him in the brief breeze that rises. 

Firmly closing the door behind him, the man flips on a light and calls "Good evening, Claire," to the fluffy guinea pig whose cage is next to the door. "My apologies for making you wait on your dinner," he adds while taking off his tan trenchcoat and hanging it in the coat closet. "I purchased some fresh food, so I hope you'll forgive me." Rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, he picks up the cage and carries it into the kitchen, smiling down at the fluffy rodent with warm blue eyes. Claire lets out a squeak as he sets her down on the island and begins making dinner for the two of them.

Suddenly the lights flicker and buzz before brightening back up. Then the little radio crackles from its position on the kitchen counter, and instead of the soothing strains of the "Moonlight Sonata", a guitar riff blasts from the speakers at full volume. The guinea pig is having none of this and retreats into her bunker inside the cage. Her owner walks over to the radio and squints at it, cocking his head before flipping the dial and turning the volume way down.

It is then that the lights blink off again and stay dark this time. "Wow," comes an amused voice from the far corner of the room. "And I thought my _brother_ didn't get out much."

The lights come back on and the man jumps as he sees a figure about his height with short light brown hair and bright green eyes that are currently sparking with amusement. He stands upright from where he had appeared leaning against the kitchen wall, and takes several deliberate steps forward. "I mean, I'm supposed to guard a guy who lives like THIS?" The being sweeps an arm out, encompassing the small house. "Heh. That's hilarious."

The man whose house this is has grabbed the handle of a kitchen implement in one hand. The other smacks his lips and raises his eyebrows as he is menaced with a large pan made of stainless steel. "I don't intend to be rude," the owner says, "but what are you doing in my home? I was just about to make dinner--"

"Yeah, an extremely pathetic dinner with probably the crappiest date I've ever seen." Both glance over at Claire the guinea pig, who is currently grooming herself and ignoring them.

The homeowner straightens his shoulders and his blue eyes flash angrily. "I don't appreciate you speaking of Claire that way. She is my friend."

"All right, woah. Didn't mean to piss you off." The other raises both leather-jacketed arms in response. He clears his throat. "... Don't you, uh, have any other friends?" He receives only a stony stare in reply and so backs off. "Alrighty then. Well my name's Dean, and I'm here to guard your ass, so why don't you grab us some beers and I'll make you a decent dinner?" He snaps his fingers and a bag appears in his hand. "There's nothin' like a bacon cheeseburger after a rough day with kids, Counselor --uh, Cas."

The man looks at the greasy paper bag this stranger--Dean--is now holding out to him, and then asks "...Why did you call me that?"

"Cas? Well, I saw your nametag--" He looks down at his shirt. He had forgotten to remove it. "And 'Castiel's a little stuffy. Too formal for me." Castiel pauses as he had been about to hand Dean a drink. The other focuses on him with those direct green eyes again. "Do ya mind if I call ya Cas?"

Castiel takes the proffered bag gingerly and sets it down beside Claire's cage. The guinea pig has shuffled out of her house and over to the bars. Dean lets her smell his fingers before shooting her owner a grin. Castiel softens and hands over the bottle. "No, I suppose not."

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece is from the song "Fallen Angel" by the band Poison. I changed the tense and gender of two words to fit this story a little better.
> 
> Also, the second portion of this piece occurs on a different day, if that was not clear from reading.


End file.
